


OFFstuck

by AnalyticChaoticism



Category: Homestuck, OFF (Game), OFFstuck
Genre: AU, I'm not sure if this is a oneshot or not TBQH we'll see how things go, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-15
Updated: 2017-01-15
Packaged: 2018-09-16 23:46:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9294998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnalyticChaoticism/pseuds/AnalyticChaoticism
Summary: The Batter, our protagonist, has found himself within the Medium alongside unwitting AU (human) versions of the three zone guardians, as well as our friends Zacharie and Sugar. Assigned the title of Prince of Hope, he will - with the guiding hand of Judgesprite - purify the Land of Smoke and Corruption, a once peaceful land of metal and plastic which has fallen prey to the whisperings of the Furthest Ring. Nothing will stand in the way of his quest for purification. SBURB means nothing to him. All that matters is that his sacred mission is completed, at the behest of the author pulling the strings behind the scenes. Will the Judge and Zacharie finally convince the Batter to break free of the Creator's controls and assume the free will and self awareness itching below the surface, perhaps even aiding their session in the hope of creating a new universe?





	

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm still working on Homestuck Act 7 Redux: Void Ex Machina. I just might not get it finished when I thought I would

Without fanfare, the Batter enters the Medium, appearing upon the Land of Smoke and Corruption. His existence is simple and need not be embellished by trumpets. It is without the knowledge of his co-players that he arrives. His appearance is as spontaneous and ineffable as is his purpose. Questionable origins and motivations are intrinsic to his character. But in the end, they do not matter. He is just a means to an end, as all things are. Where the others arrived in houses they had each helped each other to build and equip to prepare for the game, the Batter arrives with a simple grey, concrete slab alongside the requisite mechanisms. No more is needed. He is a simple tool. 

The Land of Smoke and Corruption. The planet’s surface is covered in a giant ocean of liquid plastic which despite its cool temperature refuses to resolidify. Entering the sea, let alone diving below its opaque surface, is a fool’s gambit. Perhaps one could survive the plastic currents by luck, but the liquid teems witch strange, voracious beasts which call the oceans home. Escaping them in their environment would be a nye impossible task. Dividing the white oceans is a land of yellow metal. Tiered squares build the ground, the large square areas sometimes connected by simple yellow bridges to form a pattern akin to bismuth crystals. Small towns and residential areas dot the landscape, made from the same metal as the ground they are built upon. Populating the many settlements are LOSAC’s consorts, a society of docile red crocodiles. At the north-most point of the planet - reachable only by the tram that crosses the chasm-like moat around his island - one would find the towering, treacherous lair of LOSAC’s denizen: Yaldobaoth, the sun serpent. Unfortunately he has had the tram disabled. Access to his lair has been cut off. Enforcing rule in his place are a series of twisted creatures known only as underlings and the influence of eldritch gods from the Furthest Ring. Dark smoke has begun billowing from Yaldobaoth’s pit, accompanied by black, writhing tentacles and thorny vines rising from the oceans which threaten to encroach upon the shrouded land. Consorts within the smoke too long begin to hear whispers from the veil. Maddening whispers everywhere you go. There is no escaping the corrupting influence of the Horrorterrors. Even now the Batter can hear their enticing gibberish drift softly through the air towards him. They will not interfere in his quest. 

He will uphold his sacred mission. 

There is no doubt.

It was once said that angels roamed the planet, claiming dominion over the land. Once LOSAC knew purity under their holy reign. But they have disappeared now. Fallen. To illness, fear, or death, nobody is to say. 

Once the Batter is finished it will not matter. 

The Judge appears alongside him, taken into the game as an abstraction. A sprite given knowledge of the game’s machinations so that they may guide the player on their quest. Bat clutched by his side, the Batter turns his head to face him. 

BATTER: I am the Batter.

JUDGESPRITE: My name may have been officially changed to the more topical Judgesprite, but you may call me the Judge, the alias under which I operated before I was thrust into the position of the phantasmagorical and interdimensional.

JUDGESPRITE: It appears that fate desires an encore.

BATTER: What are you talking about?

JUDGESPRITE: Do not concern yourself with too much thought on my absent minded musings. If they must preoccupy your neurological space consider them the mere delusional ramblings of a strange cat transformed by a power greater and older than either of us can hope to ever comprehend the unknowably vast scope of, my puppeted friend.

JUDGESPRITE: I am not sure if any of us are capable of understanding it all. If someone were to, I do believe they would positively lose any semblance of sanity they had left after having decided on such an endeavour and devolve into a gibbering wreck.

BATTER: Comprehending the forces of the universe is not part of my sacred mission.

BATTER: Will you assist me on my quest?

JUDGESPRITE: Oh but of course! The very will of the Great Unknowable called by many Paradox Space dictates that the very base concept of my existence is to serve as your spiritual guide

JUDGESPRITE: I would be content to lend you my aide.

JUDGESPRITE: Nobody is more qualified to help you than me. Where we find ourselves and what tasks you must undertake is information open to me behind the obfuscation of fun riddles.  


BATTER: Are riddles necessary.

JUDGESPRITE: I can forego the riddles if you so desire.

BATTER: That would be optimal.

BATTER: I have no time to solve riddles. My mission comes before all else.

BATTER: This land has suffered great calamity.

BATTER: I will eliminate the impurity. This is my sacred mission. Nothing will stand in my way.

JUDGESPRITE: Ah yes! Your quest. We are here together upon the metal planes of the Land of Smoke and Corruption. Dark eldritch beings are insidiously infecting this land, which we see manifest in the whispering smoke and tentacled masses rising from the depths of the plastic oceans.

JUDGESPRITE: Combating their mind loosening unfathomability is a Herculean task, one I am not sure is possible to be successfully undertaken.

BATTER: I will endure.

JUDGESPRITE: Perhaps you shall.

JUDGESPRITE: First you must contact the settlements which house the consorts of your land. Then you must find and destroy the land’s hearts of corruption. Finally you must confront your denizen, the chief of monsters, Yaldobaoth. He has brought strife upon this world in the form of underlings, twisted monsters which prey upon the consorts.

JUDGESPRITE: Once you have defeated an underling, you will gain units of grist. With grist you can construct items using the alchemiter.

JUDGESPRITE: It will allow you to combine any plethora of items you acquire into numerous mysterious artifacts curated only by your imagination, brought into reality with sufficient grist types and quantities.

BATTER: My bat shall suffice.

JUDGESPRITE: I can appreciate your faith and dedication, but do not be so quick to write off the amazing power of creation awarded you in this new reality.

BATTER: I am ready.

JUDGESPRITE: I would expect nothing less.

JUDGESPRITE: Escaping from your purpose is impossible.

JUDGESPRITE: The inquisition begins.

BATTER: Divine judgement shall be wrought.

==>

First, they see it as a shape emerging from the smoke. They can’t quite make it out through the grey and black but it doesn’t appear big, only reaching the Batter’s waist. Once it comes a bit closer, they can hear the soft gnashing of teeth and a muffled ‘nak nak nak.’ Batter raises the bat. Leaning it against his shoulder, he steps toward the figure and assumes a fighting stance. 

BATTER: Prepare yourself, underling.

BATTER: You step upon the brink of oblivion.

The nakking begins to sound like a whine. 

CROCODILE: I-I don’t mean any harm!

CROCODILE: Who are you? Are you... w-with others? 

It emerges from the shroud of smoke. A small, bipedal red crocodile. It looks with a frantic anxiety between the Batter and the Judge. 

BATTER: I am the Batter.

BATTER: I have been brought here to complete my quest.

JUDGESPRITE: I am Judgesprite, and serve as his wise companion and guide.

The crocodile squeaks. Its eyes light up with hope, and the smoke behind it seems to recede in response.

CROCODILE: Quest?!

BATTER: Purification of this land.

BATTER: No child of corruption will escape righteous sentencing.

BATTER: Are you a child of corruption?

JUDGESPRITE: This is but a harmless consort.

CROCODILE: Have you been sent to save us?

CROCODILE: Where have you come from?

BATTER: Origins do not matter.

BATTER: I was sent to impart judgement and destroy the impures. This is all that matters.

BATTER: Nothing else is of concern.

JUDGESPRITE: He is a very ardent zealot my reptilian friend.

CROCODILE: Will you save us from the corruption?

CROCODILE: I could hear them calling to me.

CROCODILE: I’m scared. We’re all scared. We have been waiting for someone to save us for so long.

BATTER: I will.

JUDGESPRITE: Why are you here, friend? Venturing through the smoke away from those dear to you is an assuredly disastrous idea. Do you have a death wish?

CROCODILE: No! I don’t want to die. I was wandering the edge of the village with my friends, because we had heard the stories of the monsters created by the sun serpent plaguing the land, but none had appeared in our village, we live on the outskirts of one of the bigger towns, and we don’t draw much attention. Maybe that’s why we had been left alone. But we were still curious so we went to see if we could find any and drive them away from our homes. The darkness consumed me.

CROCODILE: I could not see through the smoke, but I heard things. I heard them calling to me from the darkness. I do not know where we are anymore nak nak. Nobody has ever come out this far, I didn’t even think it was nakking possible, but then the smoke began to lift and I heard you talking. At first I thought you looked like a monster.

CROCODILE: But how could someone so confident and sure of such a noble goal they know in their heart to be true be a monster? I don’t think it’s possible.

CROCODILE: But what do I know? I’m a crocodile! Nak nak nak nak nak.

JUDGESPRITE: Such a voraciously loquacious individual. We will offer you our protection and in exchange you will serve as the guide of a guide, so that the judge, jury, and executioner, may be led to the hearing.

CROCODILE: I’ll try my best!

CROCODILE: Nak nak nak nak nak nak!

BATTER: You are a strange one.

JUDGESPRITE: Who are we to know what effect the exposure to the blithering smoke has had upon his poor, addled brain? I believe him to be harmless, if not entertaining.

CROCODILE: Thanks I guess!

CROCODILE: You remind me of an angel. I remember when I was younger, my parents would tell me stories about how angels used to protect the land. But I’ve never seen one! I think if there ever were to be an angel, it would look something like you.

BATTER: Something like who?

CROCODILE: Nak nak.

BATTER: Let us not waste further time.

Returning his bat to his side, the Batter pushes ahead into the smoke. Making sure not to lose him, his companions stick close behind him. Carving a path through the darkness with his presence, it could be said it was if he were glowing. A holy light piercing the shadows. No whispers were heard. 

>Be Dedan.

Your name is DEDAN. You are the THIEF OF TIME, and while your MONOPOLY ON TEMPORAL MATTERS has allowed you ALL THE TIME IN THE WORLD you could ever need, you have NONE TO WASTE on some TRITE FUCKING INTRODUCTION and EVEN LESS PATIENCE. CURRENTLY - which has become something CONSIDERABLY RELATIVE to you as of late with the ABOUNDING TIME BULLSHIT - you have been FREQUENTLY ACCOSTED by the underlings of your planet.

You have found yourself on the Land of Hourglasses and Industry. SBURB. Together, you and your friends had decided to play SBURB. Critics had raved about the game’s quality, playtime, depth, and ingenuity. Somehow. To the best of your knowledge, no review copies had been distributed. Either way, reviews were glowing. You thought it was all full of shit, a game made for wankers praised by pricks. Your friends brought you around in the end, and now look what deep, deep shit you’re all in. If only those delusional cunts had listened to you… You care about them all the same and so here you all are, trapped in some other-world dimension. Before you were zapped here by God knows what trashy witchcraft, your moron pals had played the game. They convinced you, another moron apparently, to also play the game. Meteors began barreling from the sky. Hurtling towards your neighbours, your friends, and eventually yourself, you knew that this targeting could not be a coincidence. Frantically you deployed the game constructs and entered the Medium. Pre-entry you all prototyped your ‘sprite kernels,’ which resulted in individual spirit guides. Unfortunately, you’ve been stuck with a literally bird-brained asshole. Fortunately, you can’t bring yourself to hate them.

PEDALOSPRITE: Queet queet queet!

DEDAN: are you going to quack or are you going to tweet? make up your stupid mind already!

PEDALOSPRITE: Awwwwwwwwwww I’m sorry Dedan! Tweet quack.

PEDALOSPRITE: It’s still a bit confusing quack quack tweet!

DEDAN: whatever

DEDAN: choose a silly sound and stick to it

PEDALOSPRITE: Okay!

PEDALOSPRITE: Would you like to talk about your quest? There might be more things we could learn together if we discussed it! I want to make sure it’s smooth sailing tweet!

DEDAN: what foolish shit did you say I had to do to win?

PEDALOSPRITE: The player of the Land of Hourglasses and Industry must learn to command the sand and return productivity to the consort’s lives.

PEDALOSPRITE: Tweet if anyone in the whole world can quackin do something like that it’s you Dedan! Tweet quack queet.  


DEDAN: how am I meant to command sand? is that a Time power?

PEDALOSPRITE: Not tweetin quite! But Time powers and understanding the aspect is pretty quackin important! Thankfully that’s all just practical learning you do by using your powers and you’re good at those things Dedan! Tweet quack quack tweet quack.

DEDAN: okay. okay I’m sure if any old bitch can suffer through this work and come out on the other side it’s me. I’ll conquer this shoddy planet

PEDALOSPRITE: I’m afraid I can’t queetin give you all the twuackin answers but I’ll help you when I can! Doing puzzles and talking to consorts would be useful too!

PEDALOSPRITE: Oh sorry I did it twice then.

PEDALOSPRITE: Quack!

You roll your eyes and scoff in disgust. With hands on hips, you look out over the land, looking for something to do. 

DEDAN: what am I meant to do in this sandy shitscape!

PEDALOSPRITE: How about those?

Sand begins to shift around you. Ripples in the grainy sea erupt into beige waves. Emerging shapes charge toward you, gradually taking form. Crunching sounds fill the air, like the soundtrack of a dropped glass playing in reverse. Indeed, the broken hourglass ahead of you which had strewn the sand of the area begins drawing the sand into itself, glass regenerating. Sand receding, the causes of the waves are revealed: long snake-like underlings with gaping maws. Tar basilisks. Their black, oily skin shimmers in the sunlight. Two come from the sides while a third from the middle. The two flankers are simply prototyped with wings pressed against their bodies and masques from Enoch’s ridiculous operatic interests. The middle one, however, draws your attention. Cat ears. 

It has cat ears.

None of your coplayers prototyped with cat items. 

DEDAN: I’ll crush these insolent pests beneath my heel slowly

DEDAN: If theyre wise theyll beg for mercy in whatever shit eating gibberish tongue they speak

You draw your Fate’s Hands. The clock hand-shaped blades rest comfortably in your hands as if you were born holding them. 6 more basilisks follow behind the leading 3.

DEDAN: they should learn the Queen’s English

>Dedan: Check back up on the Batter’s stooges. 

Dedan appears to be too preoccupied to service you, but the Batter is free. You never stopped being the Batter. Switching bodies is a preposterous idea that he suggest you not entertain, lest you waste further time and hinder his crusade’s advance. 

Finally it seems as if they are close to a settlement. Building silhouettes can be seen through the smoke. The Batter’s holy aura suddenly begins to dim. Groans, whispers, and screams fill the dark smoke billowing towards them. Winged shadows flit through the clouds. Choir bells chime in the distance, reverberating up their spines. Laughter peals in tune with the knolls. The winged figures rise before diving through the smoke towards the trio. The Batter raises his bat.

CROCODILE: Nak nak nak nak nak nak nak nak nak nak.

CROCODILE: Are they angels?

BATTER: Children of corruption, salvation will be yours.

BATTER: Embrace my gift without resistance.

Plummeting towards him, the creature opens its gaping maw and shrieks. Unwavering in the face of danger, the Batter swings his bat. Bones crack and the basilisk smashes into the unforgiving metal with a crunch. 

>Check on Dedan.

Plunging the Hour Hand into its head causes it to burst, spilling grist everywhere. The minute hand whistles through the air and slices the body of the lunging basilisk in half. Undeterred, the other basilisks try their hands at you. 

DEDAN: wretched vermin. I’ll exterminate all of you like the filthy whores you are!

You decide it’s time to try to bust out some wicked Time powers. Assert yourself more than slicing heads could ever do. One lunges at you as you pull out your hourglass. Now is when the fucking magic happens, friends. You are doing this. You are making this happen. 

DEDAN: burn in hell!

Once the sand begins to spill, the world slows and 3 time clones appear. You all rush it at the same time, stabbing and cutting as you become the next clone with every successive strike. More appear and together you take care of another two frozen enemies. The remaining 4 hesitate. They paw at the ground while they share anxious looks, unsure of whether or not to continue their attack. Just more shameless, deficient idiots wasting your time. You fast forward behind and rewind in front of them, cutting one down with each jump. Unable to react, they might as well just stand there and take it. You’re mildly entertained by their futile attempts in the brief moment it takes before the you hit them. 

PEDALOSRPITE: Quack tweet quack quack quack!

PEDALOSPRITE: Good job Dedan!

PEDALOSPRITE: I knew you could do it! These tweetin chumps haven’t got anything on your awesome power!

DEDAN: thanks

DEDAN: nothing can oppose me

You’re still concerned by the appearance of cat prototyping. You’d been informed of your co-player’s prototyping components, and all of a sudden here’s some fucking cat monster which doesn’t make any sense. 

DEDAN: Pedalo!

PEDALOSPRITE: Yes Dedan?!

DEDAN: can underlings mutate?

PEDALOSPRITE: No!

PEDALOSPRITE: The only way for an underling to change is prototyping.

PEDALOSPRITE: Tweet tweet.

You’ll just have to ask the other dimwits what the fuck is happening. Perhaps they’ll stop shitting themselves long enough to clue up and give you an actual answer. They might be your friends but they’re also a bit slow on the uptake for your likings. One day they’ll all be 100% tolerable and won’t make you snappy. It also helps you refuse to let them know that you think they aren’t actually too bad and would probably be sad if they were to STOP being your friends. You hope your abuse keeps them around. Effective tactics, you know. No need for the medals. 

CURRENT grindingTyranny [CGT] RIGHT NOW opened a memo on board CHUCKLEFUCKS GET CHUCKLYFUCKED

CGT: alright I might be loathe to waste our time with the clusterfuck this has the potential to descend into quite easily but something is amiss  


CGT: I thought we had told each other what we prototyped

CURRENT abjectCreator [CAC] RIGHT NOW responded to memo.

CAC: We Did!

CAC: We’ve Already Had A Whole Discussion About These Things, Dedan.

CAC: We Shared All Our Information.

CURRENT theatricalGuardian [CTG] RIGHT NOW responded to memo.

CTG: So WHAT’S the MEANING of this Dedan?

CGT: did we or did we not all clarify what we put in our fucking sprites

CTG: We DID!

CTG: I remember it VERY clearly.

CAC: Why Are You Asking?

CGT: i just encountered a series of worthless underlings with cat features

CGT: thank the Queen their deaths serve purposes

CAC: I’ve Seen Some Cat Features On Some Of The Monsters I’ve Fought Now That You Mention It.

CTG: As have I, but it just had NOT occurred to me that there was such a STARTLING difference in their FOUL natures.

CGT: did Zacharie or Sugar throw any feline parts into theirs

CAC: None.

CTG: Do either of you have the FOGGIEST clue who THE BATTER is?

CAC: Who?

CTG: They’re on my CHUM list, yet I have NO recollection of their identity.

CGT: the who

You check your own chum list and sure enough, there it is. ‘The Batter.’ You leave the memo to message them.

grindingTyranny [GT] began trolling The Batter  


GT: who the fuck are you

GT: who the fuck do you think you are

GT: you gross piece of shit how are you in this session without one of us acting as your server

GT: youre going to ruin everything

GT: are you Sugar’s client?

GT: did Sugar get a client without permission

I do not know who that is, or who you think you are

I’m not interested in your self importance, I have a mission

Leave

GT: like hell you can say anything to get me to shut up you wanker

GT: WHO ARE YOU

I do not know how I have this device or why you are contacting me 

GT: has Zacharie put you up to something

Your hostility is odious

Do not contact me again

GT: I refuse to be civil until you start cooperating jackass

GT: do not think we are finished here

A quartz acheron appears on the inside of the reformed hourglass, smashing it open, creating a wave of sand as it bellows at you and lumbers from its shattered container. Your phone is knocked from your hand and flies into only god fucking knows which cursed sand heap. You also get knocked over. Having to clamber back to your feet for this trash is disgraceful. Fate’s Hands appear in your own. The acheron pounds the ground with its fists in response. Insolence from such degenerates has always confused you. What position do they believe they hold to stand against you like this. Disrespect won't go unpunished. The Batter will have to wait. You have bigger fish to fry. 

==>

He swings in a wide arc and catches each of them across the face. Limply, they drop into the ocean. Beaks and thorny tentacles rise from the depths and snatch them in their descent, snapping and tearing at them. Grist drops into the plastic as their forms disappear. Another dives at him. Catching it under the chin sends it flying into the air, only to crash back down onto the ground at his feet, too dazed to get back up. No opportunity is wasted. The bat cracks down against its wings and back, bones shattering with every repeated strike. It wails and groans. Mercy is not in the Batter’s repertoire. Fragments of bone pierce the creature’s skin, creating a puddle of sticky pink fluid beneath it.

BATTER: Pathetic.

He kicks the prone body into the air and raises himself on one leg. The bat draws behind his head and he swings, smashing the caved-in head from its dissipating body.

BATTER: Where angels fear to tread.

BATTER: Do you see any further adversaries?

JUDGESPRITE: None.

CROCODILE: Woooooooooooow NAK NAK!

CROCODILE: You’re so strong nak nak nak nak nak!

CROCODILE: I was so worried we were going to die…

CROCODILE: Nak nak nak nak nak nak nak nak nak nak nak!

CROCODILE: Thank goodness you have come here to save us all.

Pink slicks the white surface of the ocean, the Batter flicking the basilisk’s ooze off his bat.

JUDGESPRITE: You are one proficient with your weapon to a frightening degree. I cannot begin to imagine the indescribable fear you must instill your enemies with.

BATTER: The fear of righteousness?

BATTER: Of purity?

BATTER: If one is scared of purity they are truly filth worthy of cleansing.

BATTER: We are almost to the village.

The phone he does not know how or why he has vibrates in his pocket. 

consciousConcierge [CC] began trolling The Batter

CC: Hahaha/You’ve been making waves

CC: Hahaha/I’m Zacharie

CC: Hahaha/I have some things that might interest you


End file.
